Ten Rules to Successful Prophecy

By Thomas Quinn

Prophecy today faces a crisis. Too many skeptics, scientists, and people educated since the discovery of electricity seem to think it’s all twaddle. Worse, too many who do believe in predicting what tomorrow will be like fall back on crutches like planetary alignments, or tarot cards, or Doppler Radar. That’s why we at The Third Eye Online School of Prophecy are dedicated to training the next generation of Seers with the tried-and-true techniques that have worked so well in the past. You’ll discover that prophecy is exciting and rewarding. It makes you the center of attention. It gets a lot off your chest. And you get to say, “I told you so” a lot.

But there’s more to prophecy than just carping. Otherwise, your pain-in-the-ass neighbor would be a soothsayer. No, the bullyragging Prophets of Old pulled it off by following an infallible set of rules—I count ten—that any prognosticator worth his fire-and-brimstone can use to spruce up his or her track record.

Rule 1:  Be Interesting. Whatever you’re predicting, it’s got to be a grabber. Nobody will listen if you say, “And the people shall rise with the sun, and toil the day, and returneth home at sunset to eat of their dinner, and wash of the dishes, and taketh out of the trash.” It may come to pass, but it’s boring. Prophets can’t be boring.

Rule 2:  Be Loud. Prophets usually “cry out” and “beseech” and say things like, “Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O nations of the earth!” They’re drama queens. Like your hypochondriac aunt, it’s all about getting some “woe-is-me” attention. Successful prophets don’t whisper or mumble. They raise the rafters. They’re masters at being a public nuisance. Soapboxes are good; hilltops are better. And saying “O!” a lot helps. It’s a very loud vowel.

Rule 3:  Be Vague. Don’t pin yourself down. If you’re condemning a king or an empire, or a TV network, don’t name it. That dates your material. Instead, liken your enemy to a fierce dragon, or a ravenous lion, or a smelly buffalo. Equate the people they oppress with sheep to be slaughtered, or wheat to be harvested, or macaroni to be cheesed. This way, believers will be reinterpreting your ramblings for centuries. Metaphors are the mother’s milk of prophecy. Don’t say anything directly if you can offer mystifying symbolism instead. Give your fans a puzzle to work on; that’s what they love about you. “The eagle shall scorch its wings on the sun and fall into the pit, where the jackals shall devour it.” You could throw a dart at a history book and hit something to fit this prophecy.

Rule 4:  Be Weird. Coming off like a man possessed is half the job, because that’s kind of what you are. Prophets don’t look like insurance salesmen, farmers, or cops. They look like Nick Nolte’s mug shot. You need a “look”? Don’t hang out in front of the church. Hover around a rehab clinic. And never wear pants. Name one major prophet who ever wore pants.

Rule 5:  Predict the Inevitable. Some prophecies can’t miss. “A great man will die and grief shall follow,” or “A drought will bring hunger and the suffering shall rise in anger.” Sometime in the next thousand years these predictions will come true. Wait long enough and almost everything happens. “America shall elect a moron for president and the world shall lose sleep.” That one happens every dozen years.

Rule 6:  No Timetables. Never offer a precise date for your predictions. Sure, you might get lucky, and some of the biggies did. But most of the time specific dates come back to bite you in the ass. Say things like, “No one knows the hour…” or “For the time shall come to pass when…” Phrases like this give your rants a longer shelf life. The only time you break this rule is if you need quick cash, in which case a specific date can put a fire under a few butts to build up a lucrative following before doomsday. But before the deadline arrives you had better have an exit strategy, or really good excuse for why the prophecy didn’t come true. I recommend the exit strategy.

Rule 7:  Cover Your Bases. Predict doom and gloom, but envision glorious days as well. Forecast disease, death, and constipation. But also promise great days of health, happiness, and regularity. “God will be angry; God will be pleased. God striketh down and lifteth up. He is terrifying and glorious. The great and terrible Day of the Lord shall see utter destruction and everlasting righteousness,” etc., etc. You can’t go wrong.

Rule 8:  Be Passionate about the Obvious. Spew forth platitudes nobody can disagree with. Boldly declare that you’re a crusader for justice and decency. While you’re at it, you love sunny days, baby bunnies, and motherhood, too, and you don’t care who knows it. “For the wicked are evil and the righteous are just!” “The wise shall be smart and the foolish stupid.” “The rains shall pour and all shall be wet.” You get the idea.

Rule 9:  Write a Lot. Verbiage is your friend. The more you write, the greater the chance you’ll stumble onto the right thing. With centuries of history to rifle through, they’ll be plenty of events to match your predictions if you make enough of them. Give your fans a chance to find something that speaks to their personal bugaboo. If you churn out enough thick volumes of sleep-inducing imagery, the only parts anyone will remember are the hand-selected verses that seem to work. Ask Nostradamus.

Rule 10:  Predict the Past. This never fails. Attribute your work to an ancient prophet, then have him foresee events that are far in his future, but are yesterday’s news to you. Scripture does this a lot. We know this because prophecies sometimes use terms that weren’t around at the time they were allegedly written, but which did come into use after the “prophecy” came true. Kind of like finding a log entry by Columbus that mentions burger joints. So, be careful not to trip up on stuff like this. And if some of you are tempted to think of this practice as pious fraud, that’s just being rude. The real intent was to give new writings the authority of the ancients and, in those days, this was acceptable. It would be wrong to call it lying. Of course, it would be equally wrong to call it prophecy.